


hardest of hearts

by wisedgirl



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Percabeth AU, definitely romance!! also pls beware of creative liberties, eventual angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 20:36:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20802602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisedgirl/pseuds/wisedgirl
Summary: In a world where Annabeth is the cursed girl of Ogygia, Percy finds it much, much harder to leave the island.  —percabeth, had their story been swapped with calypso/leo





	hardest of hearts

**Author's Note:**

> a few notes before you begin: 
> 
> this is a role reversal, however not everything that happened with calypso/leo will necessarily happen here.
> 
> in this universe, calypso would have been the 'annabeth' (grown up with percy, gone on quests with him, etc), however they would not have struck up the romantic relationship that percabeth did. more info about their backstory will come in later chapters!
> 
> this takes place during house of hades. instead of falling into tartarus, percy was launched to ogygia. much happier times :)
> 
> finally: i'll be taking some creative liberties with calypso's curse and the island, so if something seems different, its probably for plot purposes. title cones from florence + the machine's hardest of hearts. enjoy, and please tell me what you think!

Percy woke up to a pretty girl. He also woke up to pain, but at this point in time, that was a secondary thought. 

The girl was dressed in white, and when she saw he was awake her eyes turned stormy, like she was still deciding on whether she wanted to help him or stab him. Percy really hoped it was the former.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His tongue felt like sandpaper; it hurt even just to make a vague rasping noise. 

The girl came closer. She was prettier up close - not Goddess pretty, but mortal pretty. Really pretty. Percy's brain was all fuzzy, but he couldn't really tell if that was because of the girl or the pain. 

"You drool when you sleep," the girl said. Percy decided that the fuzziness was probably from the pain. 

He opened his mouth again and felt his dry lips crack. The girl frowned at him, disappeared from his vision for a second, and returned with a bowl, which she held gently to his lips.

"It's nectar," she said, and Percy didn't have the energy to resist. His mouth parted. This time, it tasted like his mom's Sunday morning waffles. He wasn't sure how, but they even tasted blue.

The girl's sharp features were beginning to blur. The pain got duller and duller, and even the sharp look in her eyes seemed to get hazier, all of a sudden. Percy struggled to keep his eyes open. 

"Thanks," he managed to mumble, and the last thing he saw was the troubled expression flickering across the girl's face. 

  
  


This time when Percy woke up, he felt less unstable. The pain had reduced to a point where he could ignore it if he tried hard enough, and the world didn't have a dreamlike quality to it anymore. Maybe he'd dreamt that girl up. 

But as he was staggering to his feet, he just managed to catch a glimpse of blonde hair before he was collapsing. Hands caught him by the arm and waist.

"You're really strong," he mumbled before he could think about what he was saying.

"I thought I told you not to move," the girl grumbled. She helped him wobble back to the bed, and when he fell back into the cushions, the girl leaned in close, pressing her hand against his forehead.

"A square of ambrosia won't kill you," she decided. Percy finally got a better look at her. Her features were still as sharp as he remembered, but her curls softened the look a little bit. She looked exactly like the kind of girl who went surfing down in California, except there was a bronze dagger tucked into the waistband of her belt, and she had a healthy collection of nectar and ambrosia. 

"Who are you?" Percy asked. 

The girl glanced at him. "Annabeth," she said.

"Annabeth." Percy wasn't as up-to-date on mythology like Calypso was, but even still… "You're not a goddess, are you?"

The girl—Annabeth—rolled her eyes at him, which he took as a no.

"Just checking," Percy said defensively. "You're clearly not a mortal."

"Clearly," Annabeth said wryly. She handed him a piece of ambrosia, and Percy let the taste of buttered popcorn (movie nights on the Argo) roll across his tongue. 

"So then who are you?" Percy persisted.

Annabeth stared at him for a long moment, like she was trying to figure out how he ticked. She definitely didn't seem like a monster... but then again, he'd been tricked before. 

Finally, she sighed and crossed her arms. "Percy," she said. Percy bit back his alarm. "Do you know why you're here?"

"I don't even know where I am," he confessed.

Annabeth made an impatient noise. "What do you remember last?" 

Percy thought hard. He remembered fire… there had been fire. Something about the Argo II… Suddenly, everything came back in a flash. The monster. Leo and Coach Hedge running around trying to keep the boat in one piece, Hazel and Piper standing back to back fighting for their lives. Percy had been running, yelling something about how he had a plan, Frank yelling something indecipherable back at him, and Calypso's pale, horrified face as Percy did something stupid. Then, an explosion. Percy couldn't remember anything after that. 

He sat right up. "The others! They need me."

Annabeth's eyes hardened. Her expression was knowing. 

"Same old story," she said. 

  
  
  


Percy had fitful dreams about the others. Everything was fragmented; it was like watching a movie except you only saw every fourth scene, and there was no sound. Calypso's eyes were red-rimmed, and Jason always looked so serious, and Percy knew his friends were in danger, but they seemed so far away…

Percy woke with a gasp. For the first time, he felt strong enough to get out of bed and wander outside, and it was beautiful. The birds sang, and the breeze was sweet, and the sea called to him… his mom would have loved it, but it only made him feel more antsy. From past experience, the nicer a place seemed, the more dangerous it was.

Sure enough, Percy found Annabeth a few minutes away from the cave he'd woken up in. She was sparring with a dummy. Percy recognised her form immediately: it was Greek, and it was good.

"You know how to fight," he called out. Again, without meaning to. He hated when his mouth and brain rebelled against each other.

Annabeth spun, still panting, and blew the hair from her eyes. 

"You're awake," she said, raising an eyebrow at him. "And walking."

"Are you proud?" Percy couldn't resist asking.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. She seemed to be fond of doing that. She threw her knife, which buried itself in the dummy's heart with scary accuracy, and waved for him to follow.

"It's time for breakfast," she said. Then, glancing from the sun to him, added, "Okay. Maybe lunch."

Percy followed her to a table, where invisible servants suddenly seemed to pour juice and lay out eggs and bread and every other kind of fresh food in the world. Percy hadn't realised how hungry he was until he saw it all, but Annabeth nudged a bowl of broth towards him.

"You're too weak for anything else," she said at his look. "You'll make yourself sick."

To her credit, the broth was still good. Everything seemed better here, and more beautiful. He wasn't sure how.

"Annabeth," Percy said. She graciously pretended not to notice him sneaking pieces of bread from the table. "Where are we?" 

"Ogygia," Annabeth said, like she'd been waiting for this question. "It's an island. You won't find it on any map or charter."

"Right," said Percy. "And why am I here? Because if you're looking to reap my soul or kill me or whatever… I've had a long week."

She frowned at him like he was being impertinent. "Do I look like I want to reap your soul?" 

Percy nodded towards the dummy, which was still suffering from the knife in its heart. "You look like you could," he said.

She looked somewhat pleased at that, which was the closest to a positive reaction that he'd ever gotten from her. 

"Why would I kill you when I've just spent gods knows how long nursing you back to health?" she asked reasonably. 

"So it _was_ you," Percy said. "You helped me. Why?" 

Annabeth's expression grew distinctly uncomfortable. Whatever meagre progress Percy had been making instantly melted away. 

"Because I'm not an awful human being," she said irritably. "Any more stupid questions?" 

She pushed away from her seat and began to stride away. Percy chased (okay, hobbled) after her.

"Yeah, a few more, actually. Who are you? What is this place? Why am I here? How do I leave?"

Annabeth whirled on him. "You talk too much."

"Funny, I was just thinking that you don't talk enough," he said dryly. "_ Annabeth _. I want answers. I'm not leaving until I have them." 

She stared at him, hard. Her eyes did that whole stormy thing again, and her jaw was clenched so hard that Percy thought something might snap. But he didn't back down, or look away. He stared right back, relentless grey on relentless green, and finally, Annabeth looked away.

"I can help you leave," she said. Her eyes were fixed on something in the distance. "But with everything else…"

She didn't say it, but Percy understood. _ You're on your own _.

  
  
  


Percy learned something about Annabeth quickly: whoever—or whatever—she was, she got right down to business immediately. 

"The only way off Ogygia is by boat," she said briskly. He had followed her back to her cave (home?), where she was now searching through a million piles of manuscripts and papers. Percy sat on the bed, trying to pretend like he wasn't exhausted from the short trip or starting to feel the pain ebbing back in. Her head surfaced for just a moment.

"You wouldn't know anything about building, would you?" His expression must have given her all the answers she needed. "I didn't think so," she said, and carried on.

Feeling vaguely insulted, Percy grabbed a piece of paper to stop it blowing away.

"You know, I'm the son of Poseidon," he informed her. "Can't I just… swim?"

"Even Poseidon's powers don't extend out here," came Annabeth's muffled voice. For the millionth time today, Percy wondered where the hell Ogygia really was—and why he was trusting this crazy blonde chick with the scary knife welding skills. 

He studied the piece of paper he was holding. It had rough sketches of a building on it, littered with messy notes and tiny dimensions. 

Annabeth reappeared from her pile of things, and Percy dropped the piece of paper before she could see, and possibly accuse him of prying. 

"Lucky for you," Annabeth said, "I've got the brain, and you've got the brawn." She handed Percy a pile of papers, and he frowned at them.

"What?"

For the first time, Annabeth grinned at him. It changed the entire shape of her face, and (not for the first time) Percy was suddenly reminded that Annabeth really was quite beautiful—even if it was entirely possible that she was a soul-sucking monster.

"Percy," she said slowly, "we're going to build a boat."

**Author's Note:**

> not a particularly long (or dramatic) chapter, but it's setting up for bigger things... ;)


End file.
